Vare's chin-length blonde hair and couple-centimeter-long beard are twisted and parted this way and that, not dirty in the slightest, but looking as though they were kept by a madman, almost as if there was a purpose behind it. Pieces of hair stick out at random directions. His brown eyes do not search, they merely look and linger on strange places. Staring at the air, quickly becoming distracted then another long stare. This is further unnerving as, when he looks at another person, his eyes do not seem to rest in one place, glancing at the person then here and there around them. His robes are, succinctly put, very loud. Painful almost. As if he had selected the brightest and loudest colours he could find - neons, yellows, oranges - and arranged the patches of colour in the most distracting and ugly way possible. He carries a 'book' in one hand - some sort of ring-bound notebook - which also has bits of loose paper sticking out at odd angles, as if he shoved things in there haphazardly. There is an unadorned gold ring on the hand which carries the notebook.